


Wounds

by Heavenly_Bodies



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenly_Bodies/pseuds/Heavenly_Bodies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was an act of instinct, nothing mattered beyond the breath of the man in his arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's merlin_santa 2010 for starzangel1

Merlin watched as gleaming metal sliced through tough leather designed for deflecting branches and thorns not bandits’ blades and through the soft flesh that lay beneath. He heard himself scream and he felt the magic unleash itself as a fallen sword lifted and flew through the air impaling the bandit with such force as to drive him back against the rock wall behind him, his body falling with barely a sound as his limbs and head hung limp and lifeless about him. Before the man had hit the rock surface Merlin was at Arthur’s side, hands pressing the fatal wound, dark blue eyes watching Arthur’s lighter ones swim and fade with pain and death. A sound, primal and fierce, ripped itself from Merlin’s throat, his eyes glowing molten gold, and blood began to seep from a rapidly growing wound between his ribs. A whispered, “Arthur,” escaping his lips before Merlin fell bloody at Arthur’s side.

And that was how the rest of the hunting party found them moments later, unconscious and bleeding with the bodies of five men around them.

\---

“Over here, quickly,” Gaius said pointing to his work table. “Put the boy over there,” he indicated his cot; it was too hard for him to think let alone say ‘Merlin’ with both his charge and the prince lying dying in his chambers, he knew if he did he would be useless to both of them. “And someone fetch hot water- several buckets!”

As quickly as they came in everyone left, no one wanting to be around if things turned even worse, as it was the sound of the king bellowing and running towards the physician’s rooms echoed through the castle halls striking fear into anyone who had yet to hear the news.

“Arthur!” the king called as soon as he reached the doorway, rushing to his son’s side, Morgana and Gwen right on his heels.

“Sire,” Gaius spoke gently. “Sire, I must tend to him.” He couldn’t do a thing with the king hovering over his son. “Please.”

Uther nodded, half listening, eyes only for his injured son. “Anything you need Gaius...” Uther murmured.

The old man nodded, placing gentle hands on Uther’s arms guiding him towards Morgana’s outstretched hands.  
“Guinevere, can you give me a hand?”

Gwen looked quickly to her lady, who simply nodded quickly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What can I do?”

“Over there by the cupboard are some rags, bring them.” Gaius waited until Morgana had ushered Uther out of the room before continuing, taking half the material from her, he directed her towards the cot with an incline of his head, “See if you can find the wound then press these over it as hard as you can. Hopefully we can staunch the bleeding enough to save them both.”

Gwen’s eyes flashed with barely contained fear, “Gaius?”

“We’ll do all we can and hope that it’s enough.” He tried to sound reassuring, but he knew from even the cursory glance over Arthur’s wound that it would be a hard won battle, and what he had seen of Merlin’s was no better.

The young woman nodded and went to Merlin’s side, silently praying that whatever god or spirit it was that watched over Arthur would share its gaze with Merlin.

Gaius ripped Arthur’s blood soaked shirt open and pulled the material from the wound. Blood poured slow and steady from the smooth cut. At least that was something; detritus was more likely to hide in the jagged edges of a rough tearing cut.

The sounds of commotion carried down the hall to the physician’s rooms, followed by several servants carrying steaming buckets of water. As a collective group they all blanch at the sight before them. They’d heard, of course, but seeing was another matter.  
“We were told…” one of them braved, but couldn’t find his voice for more words.

“Yes, two here and the other two with Guinevere,” he instructed with a practiced calm.

They did as they were told then bid a hasty retreat without a word- as much to get out of the physician’s way as to avoid passing out from the sight.

If Gaius noticed he didn’t react, he was too consumed with examining Arthur’s wound. It was deep, but only the red of blood oozed from it and with a few practiced presses Gaius was fairly certain the internal damage was, if not minimal, then not life threatening in and of itself. which meant he could focus on cleaning the wound and stopping the blood flow. He could only hope Merlin’s injuries were as relatively straight forward.  
Tenderly, Gaius patted the skin with a cloth dipped in the warm water, wiping layer after layer of blood from the flesh, until only the angry pink and red gash remained. There was still too much blood pouring from the cut for the old physician’s liking, but all he could do was to cover it and bandage the prince tightly and attempt to keep him still; he would know in the next two days whether the wound would close on its own or if he would need to seal it himself, something he hoped to avoid- the fewer foreign bodies he had to expose Arthur’s injury to, the less chance of complications. He knew Uther would want Arthur moved back to his chambers as soon as possible, regardless of Gaius’ objections, so he had to wind these bandages to withstand as much of the jostling and movement as he could and hope he to minimize the amount of tearing and reopening of the wound the move would cause. At times Uther was a prideful fool, but he was also a father in pain and Gaius would never deny him that, or the need to keep his son comfortable and close as if the castle walls and its guards could defend against wounds already inflicted.  
As he finished setting Arthur’s bandages Gaius spared a look to his other patient, thankfully, Merlin seemed to still be unconscious although the cloth Gwen held tightly to his abdomen was almost thoroughly red with blood.

Feeling his eyes on them, Gwen dared to look up at Gaius; her eyes glistened with tears as blood began to coat her fingertips.

Gaius smiled at her as he approached. “Let’s see how he is,” he tried to keep his tone light, despite the obvious severity and his own bone shaking fears.

Gwen quickly exchanged places with the physician, knowing he could do more for Merlin than simply holding rags to his wound.

“Gwen, why don’t you clean yourself up and keep an eye on Arthur for me? I can’t very well be in both places,” he gave her a fatherly smile as encouragement.

She nodded and knelt by one of the buckets to wash Merlin’s blood from her hands, before pulling a high stool over to sit next to the prince.

Carefully, Gaius pulled the bloody rags away from Merlin’s side and began examining the wound. After a few moments, he closed his eyes and whispered, “Merlin, my boy, what have you done.” Merlin’s wound was deep and clean and exactly like Arthur’s in every way Gaius could measure or judge.

\---

“Would you please stop that,” Gaius chastised as Merlin poked at the bandage on his side. “Prodding it will not make it heal any faster.”

“Sorry, Gaius,” Merlin quickly pulled his hands away from his wound.

The old man chuckled, sitting on the stool at Merlin’s bedside to examine him himself.

Merlin watched, eyes rapt to the sight, his mind and mouth not so distracted however, “How’s Arthur?” he asked shakily as Gaius pressed against his bruised skin.

His eyes looked up from his work to lock with his charge’s for a moment before he answered. “He’s improving.”

“Gaius?” there was a pleading quality to Merlin’s soft voice.

Sighing, “The Prince is recovering, though not as rapidly as you are, which is strange seeing as your wounds were identical,” a glare accompanying Gaius’ words.

“What was I supposed to do, Gaius, let him bleed to death in my arms?” Merlin easily countered. “Besides, it’s not as if I meant to do it. One minute Arthur was as good as dead- his eyes, Gaius, you didn’t see them, it was like watching the purest thing you’ve ever seen falling into the depths of the deepest sea, the waves swirling around it with a vicious grip you could never hope to break. It was horrible Gaius, horrible.” Merlin lowered his head and brushed the back of his hand across his face only absently acknowledging he’d been crying. “Then, I don’t know, Gaius, it just came out, and I was bleeding and Arthur was still breathing... It was almost like what happened with Nimueh.”

Gaius rested a loving hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “It’s quite possible it was exactly what happened with her. The power of life and death, of balance in all things.” He sighed again, and patted Merlin’s shoulder. “Arthur’s strong, he’ll pull through, especially the way you care for him.”

Merlin smiled at that, Arthur would be alright he could sort anything else out later.

\---

Merlin walked uneasily, his steps stiff and careful, but he’d been in bed for almost a week and he _had_ to see Arthur. Neither Gaius nor Gwen would tell him truthfully how Arthur was doing, merely that he ‘was recovering’. They may as well have told him the sky was blue for all the information it gave him. He knew Gaius would be upset; the physician had ordered him confined to bed for at least another week, but if they weren’t going to tell him the truth he’d find out for himself.  
He was out of breath with a light sheen of sweat coating his brow by the time he reached the prince’s chambers. He didn’t bother knocking, he was Arthur’s manservant after all; he of all people had the right to be there. The door opened silently as always and Merlin peered inside, wanting some warning if the King was at his son’s side- he wasn’t. Instead, a young girl sat at Arthur’s bedside constantly checking the cloth on his forehead. Arthur may have been recovering, but he was far from well. Merlin wiped the sweat from his brow and stood as straight as he could without pulling at his own still healing injury.

The girl looked up when he closed the door and almost jumped, her hand flew to her chest before she smiled up at Merlin. “Merlin.” Her brow knitted, “Gwen said you wouldn’t be about for another week at least?”

Merlin smiled conspiratorially then nodded at Arthur, “How is he?”

“Better today, he’s not as hot and his sleep is more peaceful.”

“That’s good,” Merlin agreed as he made his way to Arthur’s bedside, his entire body feeling shaky by the time he reached the Prince.

“You shouldn’t be up, should you?”

“I had to see how he was,” Merlin explained, not caring how it sounded.

The girl smiled gently, “He’ll be fine, Merlin. We’ve all seen him fight through much worse. Gaius says his fever isn’t even that high.”

“Thanks, Mara.”

She reached for the cloth over Arthur’s brow, stopping when Merlin’s hand covered hers.

“I’ll look after him.”

Mara studied the young man before nodding once, “I’ll come back to check on you.” She let the unsaid ‘both of you’ hang between them for a moment, until she was sure Merlin understood her meaning. With a small smile she brought Merlin the basin of water and extra cloth then left the two men alone.

Gently, Merlin replaced the warm cloth with a cool one, his fingers trailing over Arthur’s face as he pulled back.

Arthur stirred, “Merlin?” he rasped out in almost a whisper.

“I’m here,” he assured his prince.

Arthur’s hand came up to grasp at Merlin’s. “Don’t go.”

Hearing Arthur’s voice did more for his well-being than all the rest Gaius could prescribe. “Of course not.” Merlin wrapped his long fingers around Arthur’s questing hand, relief flooding him as some of the tension faded from Arthur’s face.

\---

“Have you been eating?” Merlin asked, tossing an apple idly from hand to hand.

“Of course I have,” the prince lied, well, sort of, he’d been eating; he just hadn’t been eating much, more nibbling (if princes did such things, which they didn’t) that was followed by rather unpleasant vomiting.

“Mm-hmm,” Merlin dropped the apple on the bed and picked up the pail from Arthur’s bedside giving the prince a look that dared him to deny its purpose.

“I never said it stayed there,” Arthur countered haughtily, mustering up as much arrogance as he could with Merlin looking at him like that and feeling his voice still strained from being ill.

Merlin set the pail back down and picked up the plate of bread and fruit Mara had brought with her when she came to check on them earlier. Sitting on the edge of Arthur’s bed, he held the plate up, “At least try to eat something.”

“Merlin,” Arthur sighed. “Fine- it’s not like it’ll stay down.”

Merlin smiled brightly, “Doesn’t matter.”

“There is one consolation,” Arthur offered between bites of bread.

“Yes, you can make me clean it up,” Merlin replied before Arthur could.

For a moment Arthur looked put-out, but it was quickly followed by a playful smile that he shared with Merlin as he shook his head and continued to work half-heartedly at the bread.

A few non-nibbles later, Arthur dropped his hand, “I’m sorry, Merlin, I just can’t eat any more,” Arthur said with an almost pleading look in his eyes, his voice even scratchier after the dry bread.

Merlin handed him a small tankard of water as he took the bread from him and set the plate down. He tried not to let his worry show- Arthur was being _nice_ , and since when did he apologize for anything, let alone to Merlin or about not eating. Yes, Merlin was worried. “It’s fine.” He took the tankard and set it aside. “You need rest,” Merlin urged, sitting up so he could pull the covers over Arthur as he settled. That again had Merlin worrying. He smiled at Arthur and brushed a hand through the blond’s hair tenderly, pushing it away from his face- an act that he longed to do, but never would have dared had Arthur been himself.

“Mmm,” Arthur murmured as he turned into Merlin’s touch causing the young warlock to become slightly dizzy and lightheaded- affects Merlin was all too quick to blame on his own injury.

\---

Since pulling himself up to the Prince’s rooms almost a week earlier, Merlin had barely left Arthur’s side. Gaius had given up his protests after Merlin’s fourth expedition to Arthur’s chambers, and had instead, enlisted Merlin’s service in nursing Arthur. At least that way he could keep an eye on both of them, Gaius had huffed. A cot had been set up near Arthur’s bed and Gaius came by twice a day, at least, to examine both his patients- and chastise Merlin for not being in his own bed resting as he should be, which always got a smirk from Arthur no matter how bad the blond was feeling.

Merlin fussed over him like some over-exuberant nursemaid tending her first child and Arthur found it both endearing and infuriating in turns. Every morning Merlin unwrapped and washed his own wound, before waking Arthur to repeat the procedure. He helped the prince eat those first few days when the fever was still teasing at him, leaving him shaky. He was glad to be at Arthur’s side, keeping him company while he slept and entertaining him when he was awake.

Thankfully with Merlin’s persistent attentions, being insolent, not accepting answers from Arthur that didn’t suit him, and not succumbing to his princely stare, which Merlin simply returned with equal determination, Arthur was rapidly recovering. He hadn’t been ill since that first day, his fever had left, and appetite had returned along with most of his colour.

“Merlin,” he said with a withering look at his manservant, “Gaius said I was well enough to get out of bed. Besides it’s not like I’m trying to go slay a dragon or anything- it’s dinner.” He pointed to the tray sitting on the table by the hearthstone. “See, it’s just over there. And I know for a fact that chair is every bit as comfortable as this bed.”

Merlin studied Arthur from beneath his lashes, “Fine,” he relented. “But the first twinge or yawn and you’re back in bed.”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur teased as he slowly slid out of bed, wincing only slightly as the muscles in his side moved in unaccustomed, bruised ways. He silently accepted Merlin’s support as he stood- it wasn’t the first time they’d done this, Arthur had been taking his meals at the small table for the past two days, his father had even come by that afternoon and sat with him for a short time.

Merlin watched surreptitiously as Arthur ate, pretending to straighten odds and ends that hadn’t been touched in days, let alone in the few hours since the last time Arthur ate and he put on this little pantomime.

Arthur laughed quietly behind his hand; he couldn’t help but think how much he’d miss Merlin if anything ever happened to him. His thoughts drifted to words he only vaguely remembered hearing, Gwen telling him that Merlin was all right, that Gaius was a true miracle worker. The memory made his stomach turn. He looked up quickly to find Merlin and make certain he was there, that the words had been true or imagined. He saw Merlin looking up from brushing at a pair of already polished boots with a curious expression and then Merlin did the one thing that always made Arthur feel better- he smiled.

After dinner Arthur thoroughly thrashed Merlin in three games of Fox and Geese- he had to admit Merlin was getting better. Though Merlin was of the opinion that his prowess, if such it could be called, was due to Arthur being more drained than he wanted to admit and he set about goading the prince to turn in for the night. The sun had set during their second game and now the stars were out in force and the quiet sounds of evening filled the air.

“I don’t need you to tell me when to go to bed, Merlin. I am the master here, you always seem to forget that.”

Merlin smiled a silent laugh hidden behind the cupboard door as he put the game board up, “Sorry, Arthur.”

“I have this dream that one day you’ll say that and mean it.”

Closing the cupboard Merlin tossed Arthur an incredulous look, “You dream about me?”

Arthur huffed, “Yes, Merlin, I have these vivid fantasies where you are actually good at your job and treat me with the respect I’m due.”

“Ah, good to know I’ve got that part right.” His smirk was open and unabashed. “Uh, _Sire_.”

Rolling his eyes with a long suffering yet warm air, Arthur pulled his tunic over his head, favouring his right side and hissing slightly.

“Careful,” Merlin warned, moving to his side. “Gaius gave you permission to get out of bed, not to strain yourself.”

“I’m the Crown Prince, Merlin, I can’t be sitting in bed all day,” he countered.

“You almost died Arthur- again. I think even your father would agree there’s a difference.”

Arthur looked up at Merlin’s unrepentant gaze, but didn’t say anything.

Merlin brought the basin and cloth over to Arthur’s bedside table and gently pushed at the prince’s shoulder until he leaned away, almost laying across the bed.

The blond hissed again as Merlin removed the bandages, a quick smirk of pain crossing his face, before it returned to his steady features.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, has to be done,” Arthur answered.

“Doesn’t mean it has to hurt.”

Arthur smiled at that. “Unfortunately, Merlin, it usually does.”

Merlin cringed at the note of experience in Arthur’s voice. He knew Arthur was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He finished washing and bandaging the wound in silence. “There. Do me a favour and try not to rip them off in your sleep, again.”

“Hey! It was only the one time. Besides, if somebody wrapped it tighter…” he mocked and playfully swat at Merlin’s side when he turned to leave. He never expected the short cry from Merlin’s lips or the way the colour drained completely from his face. Without thought, Arthur was on his feet pulling Merlin back to sit on the edge of the bed.

“It’s nothing Arthur, please,” Merlin wheezed, hearing how hollow the words sounded in his own ears.

“It’s not nothing, Merlin,” he argued. “Let me see.”

“Arthur.”

“Don’t ‘Arthur’ me,” he pulled up Merlin’s tunic taking it over his head when it proved too annoying to hold up while he tried to get a look at Merlin’s side.

Merlin tensed at the feel of Arthur’s warm fingers on his skin.

Arthur felt like he was touching fire and ice at the same time and had to shake himself from getting lost in the feel of Merlin’s soft skin. He pulled the light bandaging away from Merlin’s skin and stared at the healing wound beneath. It mirrored his, length and placement perfectly. “What happened?” he growled.

“Wha… what do you mean?”

“ _Merlin_ ,” he gripped his servant’s wrist tightly, “how did you get that wound?”

Merlin’s eyes darted around for a brief moment before he faced Arthur, “The bandits-”

“No,” he growled fiercely, “the truth.” He had his suspicions on exactly how Merlin got that injury- he’d known about Merlin’s magic for a while now- but he needed to hear it.

Merlin sagged, then pulled himself up and met Arthur’s deep blue gaze with his own. “You were dying- _dead_. That’s what happened.” He truly did not want to be having this conversation with Arthur, not when the blond was in this mood, but he’d known telling Arthur about his magic was never going to be easy.

Arthur swallowed the hard lump in his throat, the one that he felt right down to the pit of his stomach. He slowly licked his lips, “And?”

“And? And I saved you.” Merlin’s eyes turned pleading. “Can’t we leave it at that?”

The vice-like grip on his hand slackened, but didn’t disappear completely. “How?”

“Arthur, please,” Merlin begged.

“How?” This time the question was a whisper as much air as sound.

Merlin swallowed trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth. “Magic.”

“Magic.” The fingers of Arthur’s other hand trailed over the tender skin of Merlin’s wound. “You did this for me.” It wasn’t a question.  
“Gwen said Gaius wasn’t sure he could save us both. I thought she was just trying to get me to go easy on you when you came back to work. How much…” He looked from the wound to Merlin’s face, “How close was it?”

“Close.” Merlin’s hand closed over Arthur’s at his wound. “But it was worth it.”

Arthur released Merlin’s wrist, so he could cup his cheek, rubbing his thumb along Merlin’s high cheekbone. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Arthur-” Merlin began to protest, but Arthur cut him off, pulling him closer.

“No,” he said against Merlin’s lips just before he pressed in the short distance, kissing him. “It wasn’t,” he finished as he broke their kiss. “It will never be.”


End file.
